Tag Archives: short story

Why? Because he was crazy and imagined some beautiful woman wanted to drag him into the sea. The worst thing about it? This was the first time he’d felt anything since that fateful night. At least something other than sorrow and guilt. For the first time, he experienced desire, and a deep-seated need his gut told him that only this woman could quench.

“I’m not a dream,” she whispered as she pressed into him and nuzzled his jaw. “I’m real. Do you feel me?”

Oh, he felt her. His senses suddenly awakened. His entire body zinged with an energy he hadn’t felt in…

He cupped her face and pulled her close. When he claimed her mouth, the taste of cherries burst across his tongue. She settled her soft curves against him and every thing about her was real. Familiar. He had to have her. The need to plant himself deep inside her was so overwhelming, it was as if she had somehow mesmerized him. He was operating on pure male instinct rather than common sense.

Her hand drifted to his thickening cock and squeezed, reassuring him she wanted the same thing he did. To press her point home, she backed away and pulled off his sweatshirt. Now only the moonlight bathed her skin in a seductive glow. The world stopped as he tore at his clothes, anxious to finally feel something besides his own self-pity.

Naked. The cool air brushing across his skin made him feel alive. In two strides, he was to the enchantress in front of him, and his body pressed against hers once more.

“Hurry!” She took his hand and led him over the rough terrain he had crossed to get to her. “I want to make love on the sand.”

He’d not argue with that as long as she hurried. When they reached the other side, she whirled to face him then pulled him down on top of her. He wrapped his lips around a rosy bud as she lifted her hips and ground against his shaft.

“I can’t wait any longer.” She reached between them and guided his erection inside her.

“Oh shit.” Her heat wrapped around him like a velvet glove, and if he died tonight, he would go a happy man. Narissa was an angel sent to save him.

She dug her heels into his back. “Simon, faster. Please, I need you.”

Already he fought to keep composure. He wanted to enjoy every second with her, but she was insatiable, so he thrust harder. Tangling his fingers into her thick dark hair, he stared into her eyes. He wanted to watch her come.

“So close,” she whispered. Then she detonated, crying out his name so it carried on the wind to those nearby.

He didn’t care. Her hot sheath convulsed around him, squeezing until his own orgasm pulled his balls tight and let loose. He closed his eyes and allowed it take him away. Moments later, when his breathing returned to normal, he risked a look toward her, fearful this had all been a dream.

Visions. Hundreds of visions flashed in his head and played at supersonic speed. So fast he thought his brain would explode. He rolled off Narissa and landed on his back, clutching his head as he howled in pain. Somewhere he thought he heard a female whimper, but he couldn’t help. Time no longer had meaning. He may have lain there for seconds or days, before the pain stopped and the visions passed. When he dared open his eyes, Narissa lay still next to him. His heart raced, fearful she was dead.

“Narissa?” He hovered over her. “No! Ana.” She didn’t look like his Ana, but he knew she was. Just as he realized he wasn’t Simon.

Rylan. The name rung in his ears and felt true.

Narissa opened her eyes then smiled at him. “You’re back. We’re together again.”

“Yes. Elnora will be furious.” The mermaid had wanted to rule and cut a deal to oust Rylan, who had been their king. He and Narissa––his true mate––had been stripped of their memories and banished to the human realm. Elnor had thought she had separated them forever, but they had found each other as Simon and Ana. Something had happened when Ana fell from the boat. By some miracle, she had changed back to her previous identity.

“I remember you now.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I remember everything. I fell into the water that night and somehow morphed back. I had no memory of Rylan or Simon though.”

“We could not be kept apart in human form, nor can we be kept apart now. It is time I come back to rule.”

Simon jerked back and studied the beautiful raven-haired siren. It wasn’t necessarily what she said but how she said it.

Why would they need to get along?

He slowly began to pull away from the woman, but something in her sea-green eyes stopped him. There was something about her that was hypnotic, making him forget his Ana and the memories that were still very much a part of him.

“It’ll be okay, Simon. This was all meant to happen.”

That odd declaration confused him more then ever.

“Tonight,” she explained. “Tonight was always meant to happen, Simon.”

So now she could read my mind too?

“Who the hell are you?”

“I told you. My name is Narissa. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not.”

She smiled in a way that told them both she knew he was lying. She took his cool hands into hers again, and the same warmth that had coursed through his body when she had kissed him spread through him. That tantalizing sensation made him forget who he was and what he’d done.

She made him forget a lot of things.

“I can feel your pain, Simon. It’s not your fault what happened to her. None of it was.”

“How can you say that,” he said through gritted teeth. “I was the experienced one. I should have known it was too dangerous to go out in the water. I should have tried harder to look for her.”

“You did everything you could that night.”

But he could have done more.

That single thought had plagued him for the last two years. His life had been a constant loop of wondering and second-guessing. It didn’t matter how many times his family and friends tried to reassure him, or how many cruises or trips they took to these private islands. Nothing could erase his mind of the doubt and what-ifs.

And nothing could erase the memory of the accusatory glares from Ana’s parents. He had no words to justify why he had taken their only daughter out on his boat during a tropical storm warning. Ana had fallen off of his boat and her life had been cut short because of him.

“Look at me, Simon.”

He stared down at her, this disheveled woman wearing only his sweatshirt. She was a stranger to him, and yet, he felt as if he’d known her forever.

“Do you trust me?”

For the life of him, he didn’t know why he agreed, but he couldn’t stop his head from bobbing up and down like an idiot. But with that slow awareness came a peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Good, because I would never hurt you, Simon. You are my alteruid.”

“Your what?”

“My other…my mate.”

Her grip tightened around his hand as she slowly led him toward the boulder. The waves rolled and crashed against the dark rock, leaving a spray of white foam to cascade back into the black ocean bed. The stars above glowed brightly. The same brightness that had convinced him to take the woman he loved into his boat so he could propose to her. She should have been his partner…his mate.

Now she was gone.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To a new life. A happier one…”

Simon knew he had two choices. He could get as far away from this crazy temptress and back to his family…and his heartache.

Or he could succumb to his desire and follow this mysterious siren to the unknown—into the watery abyss that stretched before them…

Nothing she’d heard or ever read about had prepared her for the man standing in front of her. Despite what Elnora said about humans being disgusting creatures, the gray-eyed hottie was one sexy beast.

“Did you say you can feel my pain?” he asked, gaze flickering with disbelief.

She nodded. “Yes, I feel what you feel.”

He was wondering if she was crazy. The same thought had crossed her mind. The ability to feel was only supposed to be possible between Hydronid soulmates, not with humans! Yet, there was no denying the dull ache at his cleft chin or the pressure of the rocks beneath his feet. But what caused her to gasp was the overwhelming heat that raged through his body, settling right smack at his groin. It not only had her nipples beading but also the area between her thighs, pulsing with unfamiliar need. Thank goodness for the large hoodie that covered her to mid-thigh.

As he continued to stare at her, Narissa felt an unmistakable magnetic pull between them. “Narissa, where did you come from?” he asked.

She smirked, loving the way her name rolled off his tongue. He had the kind of deep baritone voice dreams were made of. “I come from a place you’ve never been, but if you’re a good boy, I’ll take you home with me.” Playfully, Narissa bumped her shoulder against his.

He blinked at her. “Place? What kind of place?”

She was scaring him, and the last thing she wanted was for him to run away. “I’m on a mission.”

“This is some kind of joke, right?” He flashed a crooked smile that was so deliciously sexy it aroused all her girlie parts.

“What’s your name again?” Narissa asked.

“Simon.”

“Simon,” she repeated and found it had a nice ring to it. “Simon, this isn’t a joke.”

He was perfect. Curly brown hair. A strong nose. Gorgeous eyes. And a body like Poseidon. He was exactly what she was looking for to fulfill her mission, and in the flicker of a heartbeat, she was craving the taste of human lips.

“Kiss me.” She felt her body sway toward him.

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Giggling, she whispered, “Kiss me, silly.” Reaching up, Narissa cupped the back of his head, urging his face toward hers. She planned on just a quick peck but his mouth was so soft and moist, a moan slipped from between her lips.

“Now that’s what I call an introduction,” Simon growled and dragged Narissa to him.

The heat radiating from his body surrounded her and then his large arms swallowed her. The pressure of his chest against her tingling nipples was enough to make her quiver. Am I dreaming? If she was, she was in no rush to wake up. Simon’s lips tempted her in ways she’d only imagined.

She deepened the kiss. Simon opened his mouth, inviting her to explore deeper. As soon as his tongue met hers again, all Narissa could think about was how Simon made her feel feminine and fragile, even though she wasn’t. She felt alive and new to passion although she’d experienced kisses before. Only this was far better than any schoolgirl crush.

Desperate for air, she brought a hand to his chest and drew back. His breath fanned her face while she watched him, watching her.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he confessed.

“Neither have I.” Narissa nodded slowly while her heart did a weird tap dance in her chest. “Simon, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

An invisible rope pulled at him—no, something subtler and even more compelling. A silky thread of gentle influence that spun around his head and shoulders and drew him toward the highest boulder. Simon climbed the rock, his fingernails scraping the slick algae that clung to his skin. A yellow froth simmered in the water. Just below his line of vision, a splash dissolved the golden foam.

He peered over the top, sharp points digging into his chest and ribs. A glint of sparkling scales in blues and greens and silvers. A soft sigh. He inched closer to the edge. Long slender arms gracefully stroked the water. The moonlight shimmered off her pale, creamy skin and gave the woman an almost ghostly appearance. As if sensing his presence, she turned her head.

He froze, feeling the earth spin beneath him as sea green eyes gazed up at him. She wasn’t a ghost; she was an angel. And then his hand slipped, his chin smashed against the stone, and he tumbled over the ragged cliff and into the water below. Splash!

He fought for breath as the cold water soaked his clothes. He kicked and floated up, breaking through the clear surface with a yell. He tread water, turning in circles, searching for the heavenly, raven-haired girl. Where did she go? Have I lost my mind? The scent of suphur burned his nostrils again.

“Are you all right?”

Her voice washed over him and warmed his skin. It was the sweetest sound he had heard in two years. She sat just inside a small cave, her knees up and arms wrapped around her legs—naked. I do need therapy. No one will ever believe this.

“Perhaps we can help each other?” She spoke in a slow, sensual tone like honey dripping from a spoon.

He swam over to her and she reached down to help pull him from the water. As he dripped over her, she quickly covered herself again. “Could you spare a wet shirt for a female in need?”

Simon opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Shut your mouth, you look like a gaping fish. Her slender arms barely covered perfect, rounded breasts. The curly dark shadow between her legs glistened with beads of water.

“Who are you? How did you get here? Where are your clothes?” Now that he’d caught his breath, every question in his head seemed to spill from his lips.

“Give a girl a break. I’ll trade you answers for the hoodie.” She smiled and his heart beat faster.

He pulled off the wet material and handed it to her. “What’s your name?”

“Narissa, and thank you. I came a bit unprepared.” The last of her words were muffled as she struggled to push her arms through the sopping sleeves.

Simon started to tug and when her head finally appeared, he was rewarded with a lovely grin on her soft, pink lips. Without thought, he reached around and gently tugged her hair out from the hood and laid it gently over her shoulders. Thick waves of midnight fell through his fingers and framed her heart-shaped face. A tremor passed through him, and he felt himself harden for the first time since… What the hell? I just got out of the ice-cold ocean, how can I be—

“And you are?”

“Simon. Were you in a boating accident? How did you get here?” An image flashed through his mind, the hull of his boat jutting out of the water, blackness all around, a cry for help.

“Oh no, nothing like that. Elnora was a little too adamant about the mission. I took off without a plan.” Narissa shrugged. “I have a bad habit of not thinking first.”

The late spring air chilled his skin and goose bumps rose along his arms and chest. He suddenly felt the stones under his bare feet and his chin hurt. As if reading his mind, she reached up and delicately touched it.

“Is there much pain? I can’t tell without any light.”

“Aren’t you cold?” He caught her hand as she pulled away. “How do you know my chin hurts?”

“I could feel it. And your teeth will start chattering soon if you don’t find some warmth.”

Simon shoved his fists into the front pockets of his cargo shorts and strolled along the beach, gazing out over the endless blanket of blue. With every wave that broke the shoreline, his hair whipped around his head and a light, briny-scented spray of water coated him. His younger sister had joked he needed a haircut. His mother had told him a shave would make him not look so forlorn or scary.

With each step, he sunk heel first into the wet sand, cold and clammy against his bare feet. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in—God, he loved the water—and let it out.

And he hated it just as much.

He opened his eyes and glanced over to where his family and closest friends had gathered on the beach after their day of playing in the sand and a picnic dinner. One of his cousins had brought his guitar, and Simon could hear the faint strums as Dean goofed around with some lively tunes. Most of them had switched to sweats or sat wrapped in camping blankets now that the sun had set. Even with the bonfire they were preparing, the cooler air coming in off the water warranted warmer clothing.

Simon didn’t feel the cold. He didn’t feel much of anything these days.

He appreciated that his family thought this little excursion would help. Though it was more like ripping off a Band-Aid in his opinion. They believed after all this time, it would bring him closure. Allow him to move on and finally fix what appeared to be broken.

But how did one fix a broken heart?

There had been a time that a trip to the beach or an outing on his boat would have done the trick. But not anymore. The boat was long gone. The trips to the beach… Well, this was the first since that day. Hell, he didn’t even own a bathing suit anymore. And if Dean hadn’t dragged him here, he’d be at home in his darkened living room, staring at photo albums.

Everyone around that fire probably thought his meandering along the edge of the water was his way of saying good-bye to the past. He snorted. Fuck. If they only knew. The only thing on his mind had nothing to do with the future.

It should have been him.

Simon trudged along, putting more distance between him and the others. The sounds of laughter, music, and crackling fire faded away until he couldn’t hear them at all.

When he looked up, he’d reached the outcropping of rocks at the end of the beach. If he felt so inclined, he could clamor over those boulders and truly be on his own. Few people bothered because they were wet and slimy, smooth from years of abuse from the sea, making them treacherous to navigate. But he knew from experience that the trip was worth it. After a handful of slips and scrapes, it felt like being on a totally isolated island on the other side.

The perfect place to fall in love.

To make love.

Too many memories reared up and pain sliced through him. Simon began to turn back, not ready to face them right now. They’d come soon enough when he finally closed his eyes.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of something and paused. He stepped into cold water that swirled and frothed around his ankles and craned his neck to see as far around the rocks as he could. Bubbles rose from the other side of a particularly large boulder. As they popped, the scent of Sulphur hit his nose. What the hell?

“Ouch!”

Simon jerked and stumbled back. That was a female voice. There was only one way onto this beach, other than by boat of course. And his family had been the sole visitors today.

“Oh dear. Now what am I going to do?”

Simon stood there, speechless, while she grumbled and grunted somewhere out of his line of vision.

“How could I have been so stupid?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know how to respond to that voice at all. That soft, sweet, melodic voice.

“Humans are greedy, manipulative creatures that crave chaos and glory. They are ungrateful, vile beings, incapable of goodness. They are conquerors by nature—ready to destroy every culture they come in contact with. Yet, we now find ourselves in the unfortunate position of relying on them to help perpetuate our species.”

Narissa waited patiently for Elnora, the leader of the Lemurian Council to finish her speech. Elnora glided back and forth, her milky eyes appraising the seven females summoned to the Council’s meeting room. She was frightening, not just because of her gills and rough scales. What was more alarming was Elnora’s position in the Council. She single-handedly made most of the decisions, which were readily agreed upon by the others. No one dared to oppose her.

Even when she was wrong.

As an older Hydronid, Elnora lacked the ability to morph into human form. That was probably why she judged man so harshly. From what Narissa had learned about humans, she didn’t entirely agree with Elnora. Hydronids, who would be considered mermaids by ancient humans, had a similar genetic makeup to human females. By despising humans, Elnora despised part of herself. It was this same type of inter-species hatred that had caused Lemurians to destroy themselves years ago.

“As despicable as these creatures are,” Elnora continued, “we share much of the same DNA. Thus, they are the most logical choice for breeding.” She hung her head. “I wish there were some other way, but we must lower our standards and mate with these pathetic animals to ensure our survival.

“Living miles beneath the sea, our underwater fortress has afforded us protection from enemies who cannot survive the depths and the darkness of our world. However,”—she turned, her long tail sweeping angrily behind her—“this sanctuary has also kept us isolated from other civilizations, with no one to help us through our bitter civil wars with the Octopi. We’ve been cut off from trade, resources, and all further growth.”

Several of the older council members nodded their agreement. They were all females who’d endured the loss of husbands, sons, and fathers in the last twenty years. Narissa’s father had been killed when she was a young child, so she felt the same pain as the others here.

“There have been no males in Lemuria for over two decades,” Elnora needlessly reminded them. “Our species cannot be left to die out. I simply will not allow it.” She studied the faces of the seven young women standing before her. “Each of you has been chosen to leave our world and mate with human males.”

Shocked reactions rippled through the room. Some of the women’s scales flattened against their bodies. Others streamed sulfurous, yellow bubbles from their gills—an obvious sign of distress.

Born to a Hydronid father and a half-human mother, Narissa was more human than any of the other women assembled. She’d always considered her ability to morph between shapes a curse, some sort of deformity she’d never wanted in the first place. Now, she realized she could easily navigate amongst humans. Still, the idea of breaking the water’s surface was terrifying. She might never come back!

The world above was rife with enemies and obstacles. Vicious octopi that could suck the life from her with their deadly tentacles. Toxins from man’s polluted water and oil slicks. Commercial fishing vessels with nets large enough to ensnare her.

“Through the merits of evolution, you have been given a wonderful gift,” Elnora said. “Your ability to morph into human form can help you infiltrate their world. It is only through this infiltration that you will be able to keep our species alive. “Find a human man to breed with. Any man! Drag him back here if you must. Our survival is in your hands.”

Narissa didn’t want to leave her watery haven, but to ensure the perpetuation of their species, she must mate with a human male. The only problem was, where would she find such a man?

Mary’s heart dropped at the sight of the dark shadows looming over the Pastry Bitch like menacing claws. They swooped down sharply, and she jumped out of her seat.

“Stop!”

The shadows instantly fell away like a black drape, disintegrating into dust. Stirling pulled her back down to her seat as a hush whisper began to travel through the crowd at her sudden outburst.

Mary ignored the curious gazes and rounded on her date. “Why did you do that?”

Stirling cocked a brow. “That was not me, love. That darkness manifested from you.”

What was he talking about? She didn’t have darkness in her. She was a good person—she just didn’t like to be walked all over. Or accused of doing something she hadn’t.

“How…”

“It appears you hold more power than you realize, Mary.” He smirked. “And you’re more vindictive than you think.”

She stared at him then down at her hands, incredulous. “You’re crazy if you’re saying what I think you’re saying…”

“And what is it that you think I’m saying?”

“That I’m a…witch?”

“A very unseasoned one, but you’ll learn.”

Mary’s heart began to race at what he’d just confirmed. Did she really contain that kind of magic in her?

“And once you grow into your own, you’ll find your path.”

“My path to what?”

“The dark or the light.”

“You mean I’m either going to be good or evil?”

“More or less.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be wicked, but I can’t let the Pastry Bitch get away with ruining my career.”

“You want revenge, then take it.”

“I want to have her hair fall out. I want ants to come pouring out of her chocolate soufflé. I don’t want to actually kill her.”

“You can do all of that and more, love.” Stirling leaned back in his seat and assessed her quietly. “But will any of that satisfy you?”

Yes.

Mary glanced at where the Pastry Bitch stood at the far end of the room, admiring her work as the attendants began to serve her popular dessert to the guests. Mary should have been standing there, too. She’d put in just as much work into this function to make it a success, and that moment of glory had been taken from her.

But looking around the room, it was hard not to let the delight from the guests lift her spirits. She may not get the acknowledgement for it, but she would take pleasure in knowing that she’d been a part of putting those smiles on these people’s faces.

Mary sighed in resignation. To hell with the Pastry Bitch. She would let karma take this one.

“If I have to be a witch,” Mary murmured, “I prefer not to be a green one.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “You’re a—” She didn’t bother completing the sentence. Of course he was a witch. He’d practically told on himself with his impossible good looks—and that blood pen he kept in his pocket. “So are you a good witch or a bad one?”

“What do you think?” he asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

Mary tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. I have a feeling you’re only good when it suits you…”

“You’re very perceptive. That’s a useful trait to have with your kind of power.”

“Can you teach me to be a good witch?”

He carefully placed his glass down then lovingly ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She trembled from the delicate touch.

“I can teach you a lot of things, love. And I plan to. But goodness is as innate as it is subjective. Goodness is having the power to steal every soul in this room but choosing not to.”

She stared at him blankly. “You can do that? Steal souls?”

“Yes.” His dark eyes flashed brilliantly. He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips across hers. “But I’d rather steal your heart.”

As he deepened the kiss, Mary lost herself in his embrace. In that moment, she forgot about everything—and everyone—and concentrated only on Stirling Drake and the sensuous spell he casted with his lips.

She willed the room to stop swimming in Cristal and the scent of burnt paper. This was not the party she’d spent hours planning for her ex-employer. It was something much more. There was an undercurrent of danger beneath the tinkling glasses and the photographer’s flash. The piped-in music was garish. To her left, a woman shrieked with laughter. Mary winced. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the night was…off.

Shit.

She’d wanted a little taste of revenge but not the full buffet.

“What is it, my dear?” Stirling arched his elegant brow. The man was so devastatingly handsome; there was no question she’d followed along with his suggestions. In fact, from the moment sexy Stirling Drake had swept her up in his sleek black car, he’d had her in his thrall. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

Mary wet her lips. “Did we just…do something we shouldn’t have?”

“It depends.” His dark eyes were studying her.

“On?”

“On your definition of what we should or shouldn’t do.” There were a whole lot of things she wanted to be doing with him and none of them had to do with incantations or candles.

Well, maybe the candles.

His hand went to her knee under the table, and she felt the sway of his words strumming through her body like too much champagne. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were meant for me. I think the more important question is what you want to do, Mary.”

He was intoxicating; his presence both piqued and steadied her, just when she was feeling vulnerable.

“I wouldn’t mind those jerks getting a dose of karma.” She jerked her chin at the Pastry Bitch setting out treats at the far table. Treats that Mary had ordered. “But I’m not the vindictive type.”

He laughed, a delicious warm sound that set her thighs quivering. She was certain he could feel tingles pricking his palm as his hand slid from her kneecap to decidedly higher ground. The tip of his finger dipped beneath the elastic of her garter belt and a pulling sensation blossomed in her middle.

“Maybe you are, and you just don’t know it yet.” His dark gaze focused on her mouth.

“No.” She wrinkled her brow and the room righted. “I’m not.”

Stirling met her eyes and his smile grew wider, even predatory as he leaned in closer. His fingers slid another delicious inch up her leg. “So, you have a little fight left in you, Mary. That’s good. You’re going to need it.”

“Fight?” Her throat constricted, in the same rhythm of his fingers stroking up her thigh. “Why would I need to fight you?”

“Not me, love.” He leaned back in his seat and nodded towards the dark shadows gathering in the burgundy velvet curtains behind the Pastry Bitch. “Them.”

Theirs was the VIP table—the only VIP. This made Mary walk a little taller through the crowd of enthusiastic onlookers. It seemed everyone wanted to know who Stirling Drake had brought to the gala as his arm candy. It occurred to Mary as they made their way through the sea of people, just as many women were eyeing her as the men.

Sterling leaned into her as they approached the highly appointed table dressed in red roses, candles, and exquisite linens. “You’ve attracted some attention but don’t be self-conscious. They’re merely jealous of your beauty,” he whispered.

The glow of his compliment showed on her flushed cheeks, and she couldn’t contain her smile.

The flower arrangements were bigger at their special table; there were more candles and a more attentive staff. Mary felt like the belle of the ball—a ball that she herself had planned.

An invisible spotlight seemed to shine on them, and she wasn’t mad about it—not one little bit. Tonight it seemed as though everyone wanted to be the woman on the arm of Sterling Drake. Mary was happy she was the lucky girl.

Sterling held the chair for his date, eyeing her perfect ass as she slid it into the red chair.

“It all came together beautifully,” she whispered to herself as she surveyed the room, noting all of her hard work and plans had been executed impeccably for the event.

Sterling took the seat beside her, leaning into her shoulder to steal a kiss from her exposed skin. He wanted everyone in the room to know Mary belonged to him. She greeted his advance with an inviting sigh.

“This is too much. It really is,” she said, looking into his dark eyes.

“Too much?” he asked with a flirtatious laugh. “Nothing is ever too much, my dear. Not for us. Not tonight. Not any night. Now,” he said bringing his voice down. “Let me pour you another glass of Cristal and discuss the Pastry Bitch.”

Mary brought the fresh glass of champagne to her lips but paused to giggle at his statement.

Mary swallowed hard, the party around them faded into white noise that merely filled in the gaps of her now focused mind. She did seek something. The man sitting in front of her. Stirling Drake. Instead, she begged the question, “And what is that?”

“If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you us tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not…” Stirling paused in his Shakespearian quote for effect. “Revenge?”

“You think I want revenge?” she asked.

He didn’t say a word but nodded only once. Once was all that was needed.

“So what if I am?”

“So what if we do something about it?”

Mary took a long pause. Her mother had always taught her not to seek revenge, always saying, If you’re looking for revenge, you’ll surely find it. Just be sure to dig two graves. One for the victim and one for yourself.

Still the thought nagged at her. Maybe her eyes were telling the truth. “What could we do?”

Stirling cleared a space on the table in front of them, pulling an antique silver pen from jacket of his tuxedo.

Using the cocktail napkin from under Mary’s Cristal, he drew a star and circled it—the ink blood red. He then handed the pen to Mary.

“As I say the words, you say the words. As you write the words, you say the words.”

Mary cocked her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“As I say the words, you say the words. As you write the words, you say the words,” he repeated. “Spoken to intention, intention to word.”

She poised the pen to the napkin, the red ink immediately spreading from the fountain pen with only a touch.

“Come Evil. Evil Come.”

Mary said the words as she wrote them on the flimsy paper napkin. “Come Evil. Evil Come.”

“Do my bidding to the one.”

Again, Mary wrote the words as she repeated them.

“Darkness Darkness hear my plea.”

“Mark the words, I commandeth thee.”

When Mary was finished writing all that Stirling had dictated, he took the small paper napkin from her hand and held it to the flame of one of the many candles that lit the table.

In a puff of fire and ash, it disappeared.

She watched in amazement, nearly oblivious to the fact that Sterling now held her hand inside his. Lifting her delicate hand to his mouth, he brushed her knuckles with his soft lips. “It is done, my beautiful Mary. It is done.”

Mary stepped out of the limo and stood on shaky legs as Stirling clasped her hand in his. The man’s kiss had nearly made her knees buckle. She held on tight, hoping she didn’t fall and bust her ass wearing these five-inch stilettos. The sparkly pumps were a far cry from the comfortable sneakers she normally wore. Tonight her mission was dress to impress. By the way Stirling’s tongue was hanging out, she’d succeeded.

Before they could reach the door, a photographer sprang up like a jack-in-the-box to snap a photo of them. Stirling wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, settling into a picture-perfect pose. It wasn’t hard to smile, especially feeling the heat of Stirling’s palm scorching through the material of her dress. Desire snaked through her veins like liquid fire. She was still thinking about his promise to find out what her other lips tasted like. If his kiss was any indication, this man would live up to every fantasy she’d ever had about him.

Moments later, clinging to his arm, she stepped through the door of the posh Palladium Club. Bittersweet sweet pride replaced passion as her eyes swept across her handiwork. Even beneath the dim light of the glittering chandeliers, she saw her stamp of classiness everywhere. She was responsible for everything—from the velvet, burgundy drapes parted with gold tassels to the gold tablecloths and white lily centrepieces. She’d even picked the venue. Her dumbass boss didn’t have the connections to secure a party here. Ironically, when she booked this place (at a substantial discount), she never thought she’d be attending with a man who made her panties wet.

A waiter approached, carrying a tray laden with flutes of Cristal champagne. Stirling plucked two flutes from the tray and passed one to her. If he kept this up, she’d be as drunk as her boss had falsely accused her of.

No sooner had she tipped the glass to her lips, did the man suddenly appear. His jaw dropped the moment he set eyes on her. Within seconds, his short, stubby legs stormed into her personal space.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “I thought I made it clear you no longer work for me.”

Before she could reply, Stirling’s six-foot-plus frame stepped in front of her boss. “I’m Stirling Drake. Ms. Reynolds is my date. Is there a problem?”

The frost in Stirling’s voice generated enough ice for an igloo.

“Oh, um…my mistake,” her boss stammered. “I, uh…didn’t realize—”

“Shouldn’t you be attending to the guests instead of harassing my date?”

If Little Napoleon were of fairer complexion, he would have turned beet red. But his coffee-color skin betrayed no emotion. Only the slight twitching of his right eye let her know he was pissed. She’d seen the tick plenty of times—because she was usually the one pissing him off.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Drake.” Her boss practically saluted. “Is there anything…else I can do for you?”

“You’ve done enough. In fact, the best part about you letting her go is that I get to have her all to myself.”

Her boss walked off, clearly flustered and embarrassed. Mary giggled, fighting the sudden throbbing between her legs. “What exactly do you have planned for me, Stirling Drake?”